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The Service of Forever When waters of Lake Lure were first impounded years ago the barns and houses of the valley were submerged just as they’d stood for a full century. The fences still contained the pastures where the bass could graze and trout explore the cribs of corn and poke in cellar holes. The water was so clear that those in boats could see below as through a time machine the orchards drowned and windmills stopped as though enchanted. And some reported sounds like notes from deep within the shivery waves, of church bells pealing out the time to call those buried by the river to the service of forever.
Here: a poetry journal
